All's Fair in Love & War
by Chirp
Summary: CH3!!! With the war against the Dark Side over, a weary Hermione returns home with a solemn attitude, several secrets, and... a son. But who is Corey's father and why is nothing as it seems? R/R!!!
1. Unrecognizable

A/N: Heyo, I'm almost done with my Cassandra story so I'm starting up another one, prob not very long but here goes… predictable, no? The two things have nothing to do w/ each other but they come together. Loves and kisses!  
  
Disclaimer: Two for me, none for you! HP for JK, none for us!  
  
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The handsome soldier felt the dewy grass as he was blown to the ground. He winced, breath short, as he noticed a pool of blood seeping from his chest. "Strange," he thought, his thoughts becoming as hazy as his vision, "I don't remember any spells with blood." He tried to remember the last time he had bled, but he couldn't. It was warm and sticky and the aches were being replaced by a dulling numbness that he eagerly welcomed.  
  
A pair of calloused hands grabbed his legs and began dragging him. "Wait!" he tried to scream, but no sounds came. "I'm not dead yet!" The person did not hear hid silent protests and he winced again as he was pulled over a jagged rock. "Please don't bury me..." It was the last thing he remembered.  
  
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"Where are your dog tags, soldier?"  
  
Draco opened his eyes to see a person; he couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, for the body was covered with dirt, tar, and what looked to be blood. His/her face was completely covered with mud and grass stains. However, the voice omitted was dainty and Draco assumed it to be a woman.  
  
"Soldier?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, ma'am." He struggled to sit up but she restrained him easily. He figured that he was very weak if he could not fend off a woman. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, extending his hand for the shaking. She, however, stayed motionless and did not take the hand. He wanted to see her expression but she was completely covered.  
  
"Well, Mr. Malfoy," she said, scribbling on a clipboard, "you have suffered from a bullet wound."  
  
"A what?" Draco had never heard of a bullet before. Perhaps it was in relation to the animal "bull"?  
  
"Guns are weapons used to shoot these bullets," she said, not tilting her head to look at him. "It's a highly dangerous Muggle weapon."  
  
"Muggle weapon," Draco sneered, staggering up. "Am I healed yet, nursey-nurse?"  
  
"No," she replied bitterly, prompting him back onto the bed. "Your stitches are still healing. And..." she paused solemnly.  
  
"And what?" Draco bit his lip nervously.  
  
"We discovered an incubus relic disease in your bloodstream," she said quietly, her muddy face pointed toward the ground. "The incubus diseases are very, very old... they trace back to the family of Salazar Slytherin. They are... without cure."  
  
"Shutup," Draco scoffed, pushing her away, "it's not funny, lady. Do you know who I am?"  
  
"Bloody hell I do!" she shrieked, wiping caked-on mud from her eyes. "And do you know who I am?"  
  
"A minimum-wage wizarding nurse trying to make a sickle for declared a guy fatal!" he hissed. "So, no, I do not know. But I bet you're going to tell me!"  
  
"No, I'm not!" she screamed. He stared at her. She looked around the tent nervously. He teetered from foot to foot. She kissed him. He kissed her back. They closed the tent flap.  
  
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Draco awoke feeling awfully woozy. He sat up, his head screaming, and felt an ache in his ribs. "Oh yeah," he thought casually, "I got a mullet sewn... or what it bull spoon?" He felt the burlap comforter and turned to see a woman lying beside him. She was stained and dirty, and he noticed that he was too. All he could see was her eyes, but they were beautiful. "I gotta go, doll," he whispered, kissing her bruised forehead gently and pulling himself up. He ached all over and quietly slipped out of the tent.  
  
He stopped, midstep, in the cold morning air. It was not because of the bodies strewn all over the ground or the eerie silence; he remembered that he had been diagnosed with an incubus relic disease. He groaned, figuring it was a hoax. But the passion in which she had said it... the passion she had. He vowed not to think of it again. And so he didn't.  
  
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"Hermione!" Harry's lopsided grin strewed across his entire face. "I was so..."  
  
"Me too," she nodded. He immediately noticed how much more demure she looked than the last time they had seen each other; as opposed to being a zealous, optimistic eighteen-year-old she was now a solemn, but still beautiful twenty-four years. "The war was hard on all of us."  
  
A little boy stepped out from behind Hermione Granger. "Hi," the boy said shyly, hiding behind Hermione's leg.  
  
"Harry," she said awkwardly, "I'd like you to meet my son, Corey."  
  
"Your--your son?" Harry sputtered, obviously baffled. He leaned down to the small boy's height. "Hi, Corey. I'm Harry Potter. How old are you?" The timid boy raised six fingers. "Six? Wow! I would've that you were seven!" Harry exclaimed in mock amazement. The boy giggled in glee and once more retreated behind his mother. Harry rose again and looked into Hermione's eyes. "You have a son..."  
  
"Yes," she said, forcing a smile. "His father, my husband, died in the war."  
  
"You married?" Harry's eyes were bulging by now.  
  
"Yes," she said, "Eric Sullivan. He was killed two years ago."  
  
"I'm--I'm sorry, Mione, I have to take this all in," Harry exclaimed. "Oh, come in, come in," he gestured, and the mother and son entered the hallway. "I'm so glad you could come stay with me. I've missed you so much."  
  
"And I, you," she smiled genuinely.  
  
"Wow, Mr. Potty!" Corey exclaimed, his blue eyes enlarging as they glanced around. "You got a big house!"  
  
"He HAS a big house, Corey, not got," Hermione corrected absentmindedly. Harry was surprised to see her so motherly.  
  
"Well, you look great, Herm," he admired. Although having a child, she was still extremely slim, and had loose brown waves cascading down her shoulders and backs. Her brown eyes twinkled, as if to say thank you.  
  
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Alright well, please R/R… not bad tho! LOL, and check out my other stories…. Luv ya! 


	2. All Too Surreal

A/N: Boo! Me again! I hope this is ok and not too boring. I'm off, thanks for REVIEWING!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. I am also a compulsive liar. So I guess I don't own him.  
  
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Draco made sure to be absolutely silent as he slipped out of the fragrant bed and into the bathroom. He didn't dare shower there; he was afraid to wake her up. ^She'd probably make me stay for breakfast^ he groaned mentally. Instead, he quietly slipped on his pants and shirt and tiptoed out the door.  
  
Breathless in the lobby of the apartment complex, Draco realized he had run the eight flights of stairs. But, he felt relieved and decided to take a stroll along the city block. He breathed into the cool air and saw his breath; for a moment, it felt all too surreal. The Muggle world, his father's death, the war, the disease…  
  
Yes, the Muggle world. As soon as he had been discharged from the Light army for his disease, he'd moved to the Muggle world to wait for the war to end. It had. Only two months ago, it had, and yet Draco was still in the Muggle world, still wandering aimlessly, still conducting meaningless rhondeveus* with every Muggle woman willing to offer her sheets for a night. But never more than a night.  
  
He never worried about transferring his incubus disease, for it could only be caught in the wizarding world, and only there by certain potions. ^My father, no doubt, slipped me it when I joined the Light army^ Draco scowled, turning the corner onto Winchester Avenue and passing three little Muggle girls playing jumprope. Draco stopped, remembering the nurse who had diagnosed him. A passionate, fearless seeming woman who he would not recognize had he seen her on the street. It wasn't as if this was a rare thing; he thought of her often, every morning as he slipped out of an apartment or house or mansion or castle for that matter… just like he slipped out of her simple infirmary tent at Broker's Field.  
  
He didn't exactly regret that day, he just didn't understand it. She had kissed him, and then… he didn't quite get it at all. As much as he tried to make sense of it, there was something familiar, passionate, charismatic about her…  
  
Draco had received a letter from Ronald Weasly the other day. Apparently he was marrying some Pisca Starr and Draco, having been a member of his squadron in the war, had been invited. Of course, he wasn't going to go… But something gnawed inside him, urging, daring him to go. He didn't know what, but it was a twist deep in his soul that pressed all the wrong—but how write they were!—buttons. That made him consider going. He just might, maybe he should.  
  
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"Corey, baby, stay still. Mommy's trying to make you look like a gentleman." Hermione fiddled with her young son's tie on his miniature suit. He looked like a life-like doll. She stood back to marvel her handiwork. "You look adorable, Cor." The little boy blushed, and went to hug his mother's knee. She wore a long, light pink gown but she did not mind as he crinkled his cheek up against it and murmured "I love you, mommy."  
  
"Aw, sweetie…" She kissed his button nose and let him use the portkey, a Muggle sticker, and continued gazing into the full-legnth mirror for final touches.  
  
"Stop that, Herm; you look ravishing." She spun on her high heels to see Harry, decked out in a black tuxedo, smiling sweetly.  
  
"Thanks," she tried a smile, but she had not been able to show one of her schoolgirl ones that she once so earnestly displayed in such a long time. She offered her elbow, and he escorted her into the wedding through the portkey.  
  
It was beautiful, with white balloons all over and white roses on all of the elegant tables. Ron and his family were all posing for a picture by the cake when Harry and Hermione arrived.** "Harry! Hermione!" Ron rushed toward them just as the photographer snapped the picture. "I'm so glad… it's been so long!" And without further words, he grasped them both closely. He spotted a small, blonde boy lingering behind Hermione. "Hello, chap, who might you be?"  
  
The boy didn't say anything, and Ron was surprised when Hermione placed a maternal hand on his shoulder. "Ron, this is Corey Granger, my son."  
  
Harry looked at her questioningly. "So you're not calling him Corey Sullivan?"  
  
"No…"  
  
Ron was utterly and bitterly confused. "So you were married to a Sullivan? And this is your son?"  
  
"Uh huh…"  
  
"Alrighty then," Ron smiled. "Hi, Corey, I'm Ron Weasly." Corey nodded in acknowledgement and Ron laughed. The little boy was awfully cute with his bright blue eyes. They had grey in them too. It was like an ocean, as Hemrione had often noticed.  
  
A flash from the other end of the room signaled another guest's arrival. "Ah, Draco, glad you could make it!" Ron welcomed the man with a fond handshake. He gestured to Harry and Hermione. "I'm sure you remember Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."  
  
Draco nodded, looking slightly out of it. "Oh, yes," he said idly, and shook Harry's hand. He looked to Hermione who had blanched. "And it's good to see you as well, Hermione." He went to kiss her hand, but she pulled away and smiled weakly.  
  
"And you, Draco," she said in a dissettling voice.  
  
"Mommy," came a voice from behind Hermione's beautiful dress, "who is he?"  
  
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A/N: Wow, and ty to my reviewers… hopefully this is ok, tho short. Thx!  
  
  
  
Fire Goddess: thankyou so much! Very appreciated!  
  
Carmen—thankz, I plan on it  
  
Alicia Malfoy—thanks, lets hope so  
  
Matt—my wish is your command, thankyou 


	3. What's wrong with my eyes...?

A/N: Hey! Although the beginning plot was obvious, here' how it's spinning out. Thanks for your reviews~!!!  
  
Disclaimer: You don't own me… (and I don't own HP)  
  
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"I," said Draco, kneeling to the boy, "am Draco. And who might you be, handsome?"  
  
"This is Corey," Harry said when Hermione did not.  
  
"Is he yours, Potter?" Draco asked, standing up as he ruffled the kid's hair.  
  
"No; he's mine."  
  
Draco nodded. "He doesn't look much like you, does he?"  
  
"No," she said, quietly, "he looks like his father."  
  
"Draco," Harry whispered, "I don't think she likes to talk about her husband. She's a widow."  
  
"Gotcha," Draco winked and turned his attention back to Ron. A comely young woman was now at his arm and Draco assumed her to be the new Mrs. Weasly, Pisca*. He congratulated them and went to sit down.  
  
The room was beautiful, sure, and not many people had arrived yet. Draco glanced around, eyes settling on the group that he had just departed from. Harry was getting acquainted with Pisca, obviously turning on the Potter charm. Ron was trying desperately to fix his tie, and Hermione was trying to keep calm her son.  
  
Her son. For some reason unknown to him, Draco never pictured Hermione like he saw her now. At Hogwarts she had been a sparkplug, so passionate about magic and life. Now, she just seemed so dull and lifeless.  
  
A tug on his suit averted his attention. During his mindless thoughts, the little boy had creeped over and was now looking up to him with those disturbingly blue eyes. "Yes?" Draco asked, not meaning to sound as cold as he did.  
  
"My mommy wants to talk to you," the boy said quietly, looking at the ground and pulling on his cumberbun. "Mr. Draco," he added quickly, and then ran away. Draco raised his eyes to see that Hermione was indeed trying to catch his eye. With a sigh, he hoisted himself up and began toward her; however, she had begun walking to him. They met halfway.  
  
"Draco," she said simply.  
  
"Yeah, the munchkin said you wanted to talk," he laughed.  
  
"Do you like him?" she asked, eyes straying to where Corey was hiding under one of the elaborately decorated tables.  
  
"Yeah; of course, Herm, the kid's cool," Draco eyed her strangely.  
  
"Does he...?"  
  
"Does he what?"  
  
"Does he remind you of anyone?" Hermione blurted out, looking earnestly up into Draco's eyes.  
  
"Yes, you said your husband," Draco replied. "Oh, yeah... Harry said he died, I'm sorry."  
  
"He's not dead," she said. Draco noticed her eyes were tearing and mascara started to drip down her pale, illuminated cheeks.  
  
"But Potter said--"  
  
"I know!" she exclaimed, falling into a seat weakly. Draco sat beside her, not quite understanding what was going on. "That's... that's what I told him, Draco."  
  
"Oh," Draco said softly. He put his hand gently on her forearm, causing her to look up sharply at him. "He left you, didn't he?"  
  
"No!" She pulled away sharply, eyes glinting angrily. It was actually emotion, something he had yet to see from her.  
  
"Hey, calm down!" Draco hissed. "Don't cause a scene!"  
  
"What do you care?" she yelled shrilly. Pretty much everyone was looking, but Hermione didn't seem to care. She was in a state of hysterics. "If you don't realize by now, then I guess you never will!"  
  
"What on earth are you talking about?" Draco demanded, standing up.  
  
"You! And your goddamn eyes!" She cried, and she fled from the room sobbing.  
  
"What's wrong with my eyes...?" He asked to a silent room. All eyes were on him. Harry broke off and ran after her.  
  
Harry found his beloved friend weeping quietly on a bench in the lobby of the expensive hotel Ron was celebrating his vows in (Pisca was very wealthy). He said down tentatively and gently wrapped her up in his suit jacket. "Hermione," he said, "what's the matter?"  
  
"I caused a scene, didn't I, Harry?" she asked through broken sobs. "Oh, I didn't mean to!"  
  
"Shh, shh," he calmed her. "That doesn't matter. What's wrong, Herm?"  
  
"Harry," she whispered, "it's Draco."  
  
"What?" Her quiet voice was inaudible.  
  
"It's Draco," she said, just a bit louder. "Draco is Corey's father." Harry didn't speak and she dared not look at him. Instead she sat quietly. "Say something, Harry, anything."  
  
"How...? Harry stammered. "I mean, why, how..."  
  
"Well, I think you know how," she laughed quietly. "I'm not quite ready to explain why, but it was during the war. I... I don't know if I should tell him."  
  
"I think you owe him that," Harry said, clearing his throat. "But if you're not ready, don't."  
  
"Oh, I'm ready," she spat bitterly. "But I don't know if he is to realize it."  
  
Harry thought for a moment, and then responded, "The don't tell him yet. But don't keep the distance between him and Corey. One day you'll tell him, and they'll both be bitter if you haven't let them be together, to know each other."  
  
"I guess that makes sense," Hermione sniffed, standing up firmly. "Come," she helped Harry up, and smiled broadly, " let's show those wizards what a wedding is all about."  
  
"Now that's the Hermione Granger we all know and love," Harry winked, allowing himself to bed led back into the party room.  
  
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Thanks all you beautiful reviewers!  
  
  
  
Kalangitan—Thankyou, hope so… I'm glad everyone thinks it's original…  
  
Aiyu—CONGRATULATIONS on picking up on that. That will come in later in the story, about why! You are very keen… well, thanks, I was wondering how to spell that!  
  
QueenoftheQueer—Wow, thankyou thankyou, I'll try… but it's not much, except the obvious  
  
Draco*acerbus—LOL, very obvious, thankyou  
  
Michy_jinky—Duh, yes, thanks a million and one!  
  
Ally-sama—I plan on it… thanks! 


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